Anything For Love
by Dr. Abraxas
Summary: One night Koga finds Ginta and Hakkaku dead in their wolf's den. What could have happened inside that cave that sent Koga running into the night so afraid? sick and twisted alert!


**"Anything for Love" by Abraxas (2008-06-08)**

Koga was shocked.

Running through the forest, in the middle of the night, he was gripped by the echoes of a visage that could not be escaped. The thought of it! The sight of it! It was branded into his soul….

There was blood and death, as familiar as the carnage of battlefields, yet there was a component alien to his psyche. The suggestion of the unspeakable. Hidden and secret designs. To be sure, he had been exposed to worse throughout life, but what he found within that cavern – it was not normal – it betrayed the work of a deviancy beyond imagination.

He wanted to believe that Ginta and Hakkaku were only the victims of a demon. Maybe it was an attack, direct and unexpected. Maybe it was a subtle seduction of will. Whatever it was, however it led them into that atrocity, they could not have conjured that act themselves. It was too hideous to be real. Surely, it was the result of an external and malicious influence.

Exhausted, Koga stopped within an orchard of pine. He resisted the urge to collapse but he could not go further. He cursed, aloud, at the predicament. Now that he was the last of the pack he needed to be strong. Whatever struck Ginta and Hakkaku, if indeed it was a demon, it could have followed him into wilderness.

He supported himself against the trunk of a tree. He gazed above. The branches of the trees formed a canopy so dense it blotted the sky. Only a few, faint pinpricks of light seeped through that sieve of leaves. The cold, eerie moon cast its broken gaze across the voids of the canopy and suggested the machinations of a thousand nocturnal creatures. Demons? Owls?

He clutched the hilt of the sword – and sighed when the attack did not come.

It was always worse that feeling of not knowing.

Relaxed and comforted by the fact that he was not followed, he started to think.

Ginta and Hakkaku were always the closest of wolves. They were not related but since they were members of the pack, were the same, exact age, shared similar characters and temperaments, they were drawn into each other. Soon that bond became unshakable.

It was the nature of the pack to be close. Real, physical intimacy was the glue that bonded its members. To eat and drink together. To wash and groom each other. To sleep side-by-side. Even with arms and legs and bodies entwined.

Relieved of the shock, Koga reflected and concluded that it could not have been a demon. He would have known it. He would have sensed it. And, if he felt it, he would have stood his ground to avenge his pack.

He fled the cavern just as they enacted the event. Both were impulses that came from within. He – the shock of the discovery. They –

What were they up to?

What thought could have lead to that act? Who suggested? Who agreed?

It was not uncommon to find life-long attachments between wolves. It never struck him that maybe Ginta and Hakkaku were of that leaning. They never acted out of the ordinary. Could it be that they hid their affection so he would not feel bad since he could not be that open, yet, with his woman? Or was it simply their nature to be discrete? If so, then, what explained the sudden turn to the barbarism of that last act of intimacy?

It was known that males of that persuasion mounted each other anally. But, as far as he understood it, that was the extent of the activity. It did not occur to him – even after he saw what he saw – that anything beyond a penis could be used to penetrate that opening and illicit pleasure.

Who imagined such a thing was possible?

But if they were overwhelmed by arousal, and if they were not satisfied by the regular venues of sex, was it possible that they could have sought to relieve their urges with a peculiar and lethal activity? Could anyone be forced by desire to do anything for love? Literally, anything?

He thought about his own insatiable passion for Kagome. How often he fantasized about the act of penetration. Dreams, vivid enough to wash his thighs with warm, sticky semen, unfolded about the sensations of what that moment would be like. The idea of being inside of his woman did not fail to produce that spray of white through his grip over many long and lonely nights.

But those fantasies often diverged into other realms of indecent and filthy thought. Hands and breasts and lips opened universes of pleasures. It was not enough just that act of penetration. The lust boiling between his legs always seemed to urge new and different ways to express itself.

It must have been true for Ginta and Hakkaku too.

Koga cried into his hands. An alpha without a pack. He was nothing without his Ginta and Hakkaku.

He was angry when he accepted the truth. He was upset that they would have acted that stupidly. Not Naraku. Not the Birds of Paradise. Only the most insane and ridiculous expression of pleasure was their undoing.

Then, when that passed, he felt a kind of regret. When he rushed into that cavern, he was annoyed that they had been slow again. He cursed at them. But he cared for them and they knew it.

He stood and trekked back into the scene of dread.

Koga could not leave them alone like that. Dead, frozen in the act of the forbidden. It would be humiliating if they were found by strangers who could not understand what they were and why they did what they did. Not that he understood it. Anyway, he could not allow them to become an object of ridicule. It was not their fault; it was mindless, true, but who would have realized it was lethal when no one –as far as he knew – ever thought of it.

The first to jump off a cliff must have thought it possible to fly.

Poor Ginta and Hakkaku!

Which of the two could have dreamt it?

Within the chamber the torch across the floor still burned as if it had been only moments since he fled aghast. The strangest smell of burnt cleome wafted through the air. A breeze kicked up and spread fallen blossoms across the ground. There was an eerie kind of beauty as though they wanted a pleasant sight to greet their discoverer. Like a last, parting gift – until the grizzly scene of death itself was revealed.

Beyond, at the recess of the cavern, was the bedding the two shared in life and death. The visage upon it, as twisted and warped as ever, was unchanged. If anything it was in fact more gruesome and pathetic than in memory – it was as if his mind wanted to soften the blow of reality with dark and shadowy illusions.

Ginta, pale and bloodless. His eyes were shut as if asleep. Death must have been a gentle slip – oh, but what struggle could have ensued within his mind those last few moments! He must have known it was inevitable yet he would have fought against the urge to die every last dwindling moment of life if it meant he could have saved Hakkaku. Unless he knew it was too late.

Koga stroked Ginta's cheek but there was not a stir. Not a blink. Not a sign of life.

He aimed the torch into the middle of mattress.

Around and below Ginta's waist there was a pool of blood. Cold yet wet, when he saw it he feared a monster must have bitten Ginta. So complete was that loss of blood. But that thought vanished the moment the rest of that tragedy came into view.

His heart skipped a beat.

For a moment, just an instant, he hoped it was a joke – that he did not see what he saw – but that was dashed away again by the concreteness of the evidence.

It was real, as real as anything was real, and it defied understanding.

How was it done? How? How?

The penetrated could not accommodate the act without devastating injury; the penetrator could not fathom the danger of the position until too late.

Koga put aside the torch and attempted to dislodge Hakkaku's head out of Ginta's body. The wolf failed. Again and again, the two could not be parted. The head was too deep inside of the body; indeed, the neck was strangled by the torn and bloody anus.

The struggle would have been furious and the damage that ensued doomed the two. Ginta would have been first to die – he lost too much blood too quickly. Hakkaku would have been last – strangulation was agony and without assistance, he could not have broken free of the hold of the sphincter. Although, from the look of the body, Koga wondered if he broke his neck trying to escape.

The flame's lips kissed the straw of the mat. Instantly the chamber was consumed. The bodies burned. Crackling and sizzling, flesh turned to ash.

When the air thickened with smoke Koga fled the cave.

Alone, a feeling familiar after Kagura decimated the pack, Koga wandered through the wilderness aimlessly as though everything were lost. Only slowly, as night ebbed into day, was the abyss of despair pierced by hope. He did not need to be alone. If he offered himself to Kagome, then – at least – there would be a pack to belong to. Even if they were not wolves. It would be a new beginning.

**END**


End file.
